


Knaves, All Three

by gildedeggplant



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Bodyswap, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-07 04:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4249023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedeggplant/pseuds/gildedeggplant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil may have neglected to mention that today is Body Exchange Wednesday. Hijinks ensue.</p><p>Prompt from valda!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who do you think they be?

Earl woke up with hair in his mouth, which was just one of the hazards associated with sleeping next to Cecil. He grunted, brushed the hair away, turned over… and returned to consciousness - only moments later, it seemed - with another mouthful of long, silky hair. This time he nudged the person in front of him. “Cecil… _Cecil_ …” he mumbled.

From behind him, a calloused hand caressed his bare shoulder. “Baby, shh…. you’re talking to yourself again.” The voice sounded weirdly familiar, but he couldn’t place it, and the cascade of hair was still obscuring his vision. He unwrapped his arm from the person in front of him (Carlos, from the feel of it, and not Cecil as he’d thought), eliciting a tiny mew of protest. Which was an uncharacteristically feline sound for the scientist to make.

Reaching up, he tried to shove the hair out of his face once and for all, only to find it securely attached to his head. “Oh, Spire,” he swore, and he was not entirely shocked to find that the voice that emerged from his lips was a rich, mellow baritone.

*

Fifteen minutes later he was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, staring at his own face across the table. “So, let’s go back over this,” he sighed. “You left out this week’s Community Calendar _why_?”

“I _told_ you,” called a voice from across the hall. “The report on the PTA meeting ran over, and then we had to get a quote from the Glow Cloud - all hail!”

“All hail,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “And you didn’t think to take an extra two minutes to mention BODY EXCHANGE WEDNESDAY?!” The man across the table jumped slightly, and he realized that the volume of his voice had been rising steadily. No - not _his_ voice. _The_ Voice. He needed to be careful.

As he took a few of the deep, centering breaths he’d practiced while earning his Astral Projection badge, the other man in the kitchen cleared his throat. “Ceec? Baby can you please stop staring into the mirror and come in here? It’s embarrassing!”

The person who looked like Carlos appeared in the doorway, hugging himself in delight. “But I’m just so beautiful,” he exulted, flashing his perfect teeth. “And listen to my voice! So adorable!” He tugged at the dark curls on his head in a paroxysm of self-adoration.

Privately, Earl agreed that the combination of Cecil’s effusiveness and Carlos’s diminutive stature was pretty damn cute, but this was not the time to say so. What with Cecil squealing like a teenager with her first leopard fish and Carlos’s face (well, _his_ face - this was so confusing), glazed over with Science, Earl had to step up and be the adult here. “Cecil Gershwin Palmer, sit down this instant!”

Cecil’s big brown eyes grew round, and oh - that was endearing! No, Harlan, no. Focus.

“Wow,” Cecil breathed. “I don’t think I ever make _that_ face. Do I make that face, Carlos?”

“No! That’s what I’ve been observing! His face is yours, but he’s using it to create facial expressions unlike any that I’ve ever seen you produce. It’s fascinating! I - I need to write an equation!” He patted his clothes, looking for a contraband pen, then, realizing he was dressed in  Earl’s boxer shorts and Boy Scouts of Night Vale t-shirt, he leapt out of his seat and began scrambling through the pockets of the lab coat Cecil was wearing.

“Oh! Oh, I like this game,” smirked Cecil. “I hold all the science! Come find some science, Earl!”

Earl sighed and leaned forward to rest his head in his hand, which caused the waterfall of hair to cascade into his face again. “Masters! How do you put up with this rat’s nest? No, I will not come `find some science’, Cecil. The three of us are each due to report to our three jobs in three very different places in about an hour and - actually, you know what?” Standing and crossing the room in two steps, he lifted Cecil neatly off his feet and deposited him on the counter. “I’m bigger than you now. You have to listen to me.”

Cecil looked a bit stunned. “Ok, that was… weird.” He drew his knees up to his chest and squinted at Earl. “This is… a lot like a mirror, actually. Except that I’m bigger than myself now.” His eyes took on a familiar, hollow expression that looked decidedly uncute on Carlos’s face.

“Oh no. No no no no no, Cecil - stay with us here. Not a mirror. No mirrors. Just an ordinary, everyday municipal body swap.” _For which we are utterly unprepared_ , he added to himself, as Carlos went to stand beside Cecil and wrap a reassuring arm around the other man. Slowly Cecil seemed to come back to himself - or, well. You know.

Since he had both of their attention, Earl pressed on. “Ok. Cecil. You’ll just go to the radio station as Carlos and explain the situation. Nobody will mind hearing the news in Carlos’s voice - Night Vale loves its favorite scientist.” Cecil looked uncomfortable. Earl felt a headache coming on, which was a different sensation than when it inhabited his own skull, but no less unpleasant. “What. What aren’t you telling us.”

“Don’t be mad at me, ok?”

Oh gods. “What.”

“Station Management… may have sent me a memo requiring me to report to work today in my own body. They didn’t specify the penalty if I fail to do so, but…” He trailed off. “You see, there was a way to avoid the swap - if we had just slept in separate beds - but it’s not like we were going to do that, right?”

Bed. Bed sounded excellent. Earl wondered what would happen if he just went there right now - pulled this ridiculous hair over his face and refused to get up. Even as he had the thought, though, he was draining the last of his coffee and standing up. “Ok. I’m going to take a shower, and then you are going to tell me _every last thing I need to know to stay alive through this broadcast._ Oh, and you have to dress me too. There’s just no way I can possibly imitate, um.” He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of Cecil’s closet.

“It sounds like I would just get in the way of all of that,” Carlos was cautiously sidling towards the lab coat hanging beside the door. “I’ll just go to my lab - get out of your hair.”

Earl stopped him with a grim look. “I’m afraid not. Someone has to go to the restaurant and oversee dinner service tonight. We’re new. We can’t afford to just not open.” Carlos looked stricken. “Don’t worry - the other cooks know what to do, and - you know what? It’s a lot like science. You’ll be fine.” He twisted his hair into a messy knot. “We’ll all be fine.”

 


	2. Pretty Maids All in a Row

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earl begins his day at NVCR, with a little help from stealth-Cecil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I meant for this chapter to cover more territory, but this is haaaard, you guys. I hope it reads ok! Thanks so much for all the comments so far!

“Are you sure this is something you would wear?” Earl hissed it through clenched teeth as he teetered across the parking lot, trying to maintain both his balance and his dignity in the sparkly fuschia clogs.

“Just be happy I didn’t put you in the rainbow platform shoes. And try to move more naturally. You look like a scarecrow.” Cecil was striding purposefully along beside him with a clipboard tucked under his arm. They had decided it would be a good idea for him to join Earl for at least the first portion of the show, seeing as how the Scoutmaster-turned-chef didn’t even know how to work the soundboard.

“A scarecrow would probably be more well-suited to this farce. At least it wouldn’t mind when it was incinerated by Station Management.”

As they paused outside the massive ebony doors while Earl pricked his finger, Cecil rocked back on his heels and gave him an appraising look. “Wow! I really do look amazing in those culottes, don’t I?”

“Settle down there, Narcissus. Remember that you’re supposed to be Carlos.”

Cecil folded his arms and cocked a hip. “Are you implying that Carlos would not enjoy the sight of my ass in that outfit?”

“No, but I am saying that he wouldn’t pout like that. Come here, sassypants.” He leaned down and delivered a gentle kiss to the tip of Cecil’s nose. “When we’re done here, we can admire each other’s asses all you like. But first we need to get through this. Ready?”

Cecil stood on tiptoe and pulled him in for a lingering, open-mouthed kiss, after which he looked slightly dazed. “Wow. That was... neat. But weird. But neat.”

“Later,” Earl admonished. “Come on. Let’s do this.”

*

The three interns stood all in a row like creepy, red-shirted dolls - eyes wide, spines straight. Awaiting orders? He stared back at them, smiling vaguely and searching his brain for the magic words that would make them step aside and let him pass. Beside him, Cecil cleared his throat. “Um, Ceec? Honey? I bet you want coffee, right?”

“What? I already - “ His protest was cut short as Cecil applied a sharp, surreptitious elbow to his kidney area. “OW - I mean - yes. Kwame. Coffee, please. My usual.” One intern vanished into the kitchen, from whence loud banging noises shortly began to emerge.

And then there were two. Earl tried a disarming smile, which just seemed to freak them out. They shuffled their feet and exchanged sneaky glances. Cecil let out a most un-Carlos-ish sigh of disgust. “My darling, darling, honeyest of bunnies,” he murmured. “Didn’t you mention that you needed someone to cover the sale at Dark Owl Records?”

“Oh. Yeah. Um, Ingrid? Can you - “ Before he could finish the sentence, another intern grabbed some equipment and headed for the door, shoulders drooping in palpable relief. As an afterthought, he called, “Hey, actually, why don’t you take Rosita with you?”

“What about the beetle situation at the Ralphs,” hissed Cecil. Earl shot him a dark look and a slight shake of the head. They had agreed that he would not, while impersonating the radio host, be obliged to do anything to endanger the lives of any actual young adults. Anyway, Rosita was already scuttling down the hall in Ingrid’s wake.

“No journalistic integrity,” muttered Cecil.

“What was that?”

“I said you handled that very well. Now for the hard part.” Approaching the next doorway on tiptoe, he paused to listen briefly, then nodded and beckoned Earl forward.

Earl tried to ignore his pounding heart as he turned to face the blank, knobless expanse of wood. He thought he could feel a slight vibration emanating from its general direction. As instructed, he knelt down until his forehead was resting on the beige carpeting. Raising his arms in a complicated gesture above his head, he called, “Good day, benevolent ones!” On the other side, there was a brief pause in the muted sounds of grinding metal and tuneless moans. Then they resumed, at roughly the same volume as before.

Cecil picked up a corner of his lab coat and used it to mop the beads of sweat from his forehead. “Phew,” he whispered. “Looks like you passed. Let’s get going, before they decide I forgot to carry a two on my last time sheet or something.”

*

Cecil was in the middle of a whirlwind soundboard tutorial when he looked up to see Kwame peering through the door of the booth at them. Giving Earl a significant look, he changed tactics midstream. “So scientifically speaking, THAT button would cue the weather, and THAT button plays your pre-recorded PSAs? Fascinating! Oh, but I don’t want to get between you and your coffee.” This last while bobbing his head frantically in the direction of the door.

Earl was sitting very still and projecting an air of utter calm. (He had not yet figured out that this was a sure sign, to anyone who knew him well, that he was freaking the fuck out on the inside.) He waved Kwame in, accepted the coffee, took a sip, and tried to hide his grimace. Lords below. Cecil was clearly going easy on them at home.

The intern was still hovering nearby, wringing his hands, so Earl tried to think of a fool’s errand for him. “Hey Kwame… why don’t you go check out the archives - maybe do some alphabetizing….” Kwame’s eyebrows shot up his forehead at the same moment that Cecil stomped on Earl’s foot. “Uh! I mean, no, not that, obviously. I think we’re low on coffee, actually. Why don’t you go buy some more? Lots more.” This was clearly more in line with customary intern duties, as Kwame nodded in relief and made himself scarce.

But now Cecil was looking at him with the wrinkled forehead and half-smile that would have indicated deep, scientific thought if Carlos were making that face. In this case, Earl figured they denoted some combination of despair and amusement. “What is it,” he asked, years of Scoutmaster experience keeping the tremble out of his voice.

Cecil passed him a set of headphones. “Two minutes until showtime. Good luck, Voice of Night Vale.”


	3. Where is tall man?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos can reach the stuff on the top shelf. Cecil and Earl begin their broadcast - with science!

Carlos couldn’t get over the height thing. He knew it was silly, but he just couldn’t help it. He didn’t mind his usual stature, really he didn’t - a scientist works with the tools he is given! - but this new perspective was just fascinating. Being able to look Cecil (well, Earl) (well, Cecil’s body) in the eye without tilting his head up. Feeling what it was usually like for Earl to kiss him - it requires a slight bending of the knees, he realized. Looking down into his own eyes. Being able to see the top of his own head!

He was so preoccupied by this aspect of the body swap that he forgot to greet the kitchen staff when he arrived at Tourniquet. He was standing over by the tall metal shelving, scrutinizing the items on the top shelf, when he realized that a woman was hovering at his elbow. “Hello.... Linda,” he said, peeking surreptitiously at her nametag. “Do you need me to reach something for you? I’m happy to do it. I’m very tall.”

The woman gave him an odd look. “No thanks, Chef Harlan, I’m fine. We were, uh, just wondering if you had decided on the specials for tonight.”

He looked up to see three more cooks hovering nearby, looking uncertain. Ok, time to put Earl Harlan’s Very Scientific Kitchen Schedule into effect! Number one: remember that cooking is just like science. Check. And number two was… right. “I think we should go to the market and see what’s fresh,” he announced. He tried to imbue his voice with Earl’s easy authority.

Either it worked or (more likely) this was a well-run kitchen where the staff were accustomed to obeying orders. Four of the cooks returned to their prep work, while the remaining one (Linda) grabbed a set of car keys from the wall and headed for the back of the restaurant. “Where to first,” she called, as she climbed into the driver’s seat of a large white utility van.

“The waterfront area. Let’s get some seafood!” As Linda started the van, Carlos switched on the radio. Cecil’s voice immediately poured from the speakers.

>  
> 
> ....um, excellent news, listeners. We have Carlos the Scientist here to do a very special extended edition of the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. As you know, Carlos is my boyfriend. He is quite handsome, and I respect him deeply as a person. Carlos, what do you have ready for us today?
> 
> **Carlos:** Wow. That was a very flattering introduction, Cecil. Well, listener - ahem. That is. Children. Children, do we have a treat for you today! Since I am a scientist, and highly scientific and, in fact, very into science - the most into science! - I am going to clear up a few misconceptions for you.
> 
> We want to ensure that the children of Night Vale are equipped with the very latest and most scientifically accurate understandings of this fascinating and sometimes hostile world in which we find ourselves. After all, forewarned is forearmed, right?
> 
> Ok, so. Let’s begin with a review, for those of you listener - _children_  who were too small to have your ear apparatus installed the last time we went over this. Clouds. What’s up with clouds? We don’t know. We are not allowed to know anything about clouds. Let’s scratch clouds right off the list.
> 
> Next up: mountains! Now recent events may have led you to believe that mountains are real - more real than we ever realized - but these events were only cosmic trials intended to test our faith and resolve. In fact, I would like to take this opportunity to lead our city’s youth in a municipal chant.
> 
> Stand up, kids! Yes, you too! How do you ever expect to amount to anything, slouching over like that? Now, all together: MOUNTAINS? MORE LIKE NOTHINGS! MOUNTAINS? MORE LIKE - “
> 
>  

Carlos reached over and frantically jabbed at the power button. His cheeks were burning and he was already formulating a plan for scientific damage control. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Linda shaking her head. “Man. Teach the controversy, right? That cute scientist has been hanging around with Cecil Palmer for too long. No offense.”

 

 


	4. Each thought there was one cat too many.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil and Earl do not share nicely.

Over at the studio, Earl was giving Cecil a look that stated, more clearly than words could, “Shut up right now or I am going to turn off your microphone.”

Cecil’s answering smirk conveyed something along the lines of, “You don’t even know where that button is, my dear.” Still, taking pity on the exasperated redhead, he indulged in one more round of the chant, then stuck out his tongue, performed a lab-coat-assisted curtsy, and stepped away from the mic. 

Earl cleared his throat. “Why, Carlos,” he said, in a tone filled with false cheer. “I’m… practically speechless. I had no idea you were so open-minded about our Night-Valean ideas.”

“Oh yes,” cut in Cecil. “A scientist is always open-minded. About… _many_ things.”

Damn the man. How was he making things sound even dirtier in Carlos’s voice? “Right. Well. Thanks for that. And now, let’s go to a special announcement from our sponsors…” He scrabbled wildly around the soundboard, cuing the librarian warning system and some kind of indescribable droning sound before Cecil reached over and flipped the appropriate switch.

“Well, this is going just beautifully,” Cecil opined, while attempting unsuccessfully to hop up onto a stool.

Earl gaped at him. Did he really believe it? Was he being horrible on purpose? He didn’t think Cecil had a death wish these days, but the Voice had never been the most emotionally stable person in town, and in Night Vale that was saying something. “Look here,” he growled, standing to tower over the infuriating man. “You are going to sit right there, on that stool” - he scooped up the radio host and deposited him in the seat - “and you are going to tell me which buttons to push, and otherwise you are going to shut your smart mouth for the rest of this broadcast.”

Cecil shivered in - fear? Delight? Hard to tell. He stuck out his lower lip. “Or else…?”

Leaning over, Earl grabbed a handful of those perfect black curls and pulled them much harder than he had ever dared when this body was occupied by Carlos, only stopping when the other man’s head was tilted back far enough to look him directly in the eyes. Cecil let out a tiny squeak of protest. “You don’t want to find out,” Earl whispered.

The brown of Cecil’s eyes was swallowed up by his quickly dilating pupils, and things might have gone from bad to worse (or better), but then Earl happened to glance over at the soundboard to see a blinking red light. “Fuck! What do I do?!” He let go of Cecil, who, shaky and off-balance, tumbled onto the floor.

“Ow,” he complained. “Green button. I hope you’re ready to say something, my love. `Dead air’ is not just a figure of speech around here.”

Earl smoothly hit the green button just as the prerecorded announcement came to an end. “Well, listeners,” he said, sending a prayer to the old gods that the innately mellifluous vocal chords of his borrowed body would carry him through this next bit. “I was thinking. I was thinking that perhaps it’s time that we added a new segment here at Night Vale Community Radio.

“As you know, Carlos, Earl, and I have been living together for several months now. Living with Earl and having the chance to observe his habits, it has come to my attention that I may not be paying as much attention to my health and physical fitness as I could be doing. Watching Earl get up every morning at 5:00 and go for his run makes me admire him even more, but it also makes me feel…. well, it makes me feel lazy, listeners.”

“So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to start a fitness regimen! I’m going to get up every morning and run with Earl, and I’m going to report back to all of you as I reach my fitness goals. I hope that some of you may even join us on our early morning runs!”

Cecil was looking at him in unbridled horror, and shaking his head vigorously back and forth. Giving him a wink, Earl delivered the coup de grace. “Who knows, listeners? Maybe after a few weeks of healthy living, I’ll even be ready to cut down on my coffee intake!”

 _Oh, it is on_ , Cecil mouthed as he stood and crossed the room. Before Earl could defend himself, he found the microphone wrenched out of his grasp. “Cecil, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Cecil said, mimicking Carlos’s breathless science-induced excitement. “I just wanted to let your listeners know that there is something very strange and possibly dangerous happening down at the Ralphs. I’m going to go investigate!”

Earl made a mad grab for the mic. Cecil held it just out of his reach, but close enough to pick up his voice. Earl addressed the radio audience while glaring at Cecil from inches away. “Carlos, I do not think that would be a good idea. I think you should stay here. Where it’s safe.”

“Nonsense! Science is not about safety. Science is about getting out in the world! I’ll call you when I know something! Love you!”

Earl found the microphone shoved back into his hands as Cecil leaped across the room and vanished through the door of the booth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Cecil's behavior here is not so bratty that it's actually out of character, but I headcanon him as being in a bit of a hypomanic state. And the other reasons for his recklessness will become clear in time.


	5. Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil and Carlos go shopping. Strange things are afoot at the Ralph's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these chapters are so short. This is coming out in fits and starts.
> 
> And thank you so much for all of the comments. I don't really know how to respond, but they warm my sad little writerly heart.

Carlos stood in the produce section at the Ralph’s, stroking his chin and gazing into the middle distance. Eventually Linda walked up, carrying a lumpy yellow thing and a long, buzzing green object. Carlos had absolutely no idea what they were. Taking them from Linda, he examined them closely, narrowing his eyes. “Hmmm,” he said.

Linda nodded. “You’re right. Not quite in season yet. I’ll look for something else.” Earl was so right! Cooking was exactly like science! And if he was lucky, maybe he could steal a couple of those sand clams they’d picked up at the harbor and bring them back to the lab for a closer look. Reptilian bivalves - the day just kept getting better!

Even as he had the thought, he felt a tug at his sleeve and turned to find himself standing at his shoulder. Or rather, Cecil masquerading as himself. “Hi honey!” His arms went out for a hug before he remembered that Earl might not dole out hugs in the middle of the Ralph’s, so he turned it into a kind of jubilant, two-handed wave. “What are you doing here?! I thought you were - “ Suddenly he remembered the broadcast from earlier. “And what was all that about mountains? Ceec - Carl - _honey_ we’ve talked about that!”

Cecil went up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “We agreed to disagree. But what are _you_ doing here? Something strange is going on in the dairy section. It could be dangerous. I’m here to investigate.”

Carlos leaned in. “What is it? You probably need a real scientist to investigate this too. Should I call the lab? Can I come take a look?”

Grabbing his elbow and trying to propel him towards the doors, Cecil continued to speak in an undertone. “Number one, no. _Earl_ should not call your lab. Number two, no, I do not need any actual scientists coming here and expecting me to know how to do science. And number three, no you may not! Earl would not be interested in watching all of the cheese in the store turn into giant colonies of venomous beetles.” He looked up to find that somehow they had changed course, and were now standing about ten feet from the beetles in question. “Ugh! How did you…?”

Carlos shrugged apologetically. “Um... bigger than you. Sorry. Anyway, we’re here now!”  

He marched up to the employee who was crouched beside the dairy case, wearing heavy work gloves and gingerly herding insects into a large box. “Excuse me. I was hoping that you might have some fancy cheese for me to serve at my restaurant this evening.” The man glanced up at him, widening his eyes in disbelief and gesturing mutely to the writhing blocks of cheddar beside him.

“I see.” He pointed at Cecil. “Do you think this scientist might be able to gather some samples for further study?” The clerk shrugged and went back to his box. When Carlos turned around, however, he found that Cecil had retreated to a corner and was pressing his phone to his ear. When he pointed imploringly at the swarming masses, Cecil just frowned, shook his head vigorously, and beckoned him over.

Carlos sighed and addressed the clerk again. “Actually, you know what? Some of the local Scouts might be interested in these guys. If you don’t mind…” Completely ignoring him now, the clerk sealed up his box and began to load another one. Carlos knelt down and examined the bugs - square, iridescent, orange, with oversize mandibles and a pungent smell. He was no entomologist, but this was fascinating! He wondered if they retained their dairy nature in any significant way. If he could just observe a few of them for a week or two… He was reaching out a hand to grab one when he heard a voice behind him, shrill with alarm.

“Chef!” He jumped. It was Linda, arms full of, well, nothing. So probably imaginary corn. She looked concerned. “I don’t think we need a cheeseboard that badly tonight, do you?!”

“No, Linda, I guess we don’t.” Regretfully, he turned his back on the amazing specimens. As Linda led him out of the store, he gave a quick wave to Cecil, who was hovering nearby, speaking animatedly into his phone.


	6. What a good boy am I!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos thinks he's doing an excellent job at Tourniquet. It's a slow day in the rest of Night Vale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I was writing another thing. I should be wrapping this silliness up soon though.

Carlos dumped the sand oysters into a large pot of boiling water, added the imaginary corn, and  watched the whole thing begin to bubble in a highly satisfactory, scientific manner. Just for good measure, he stroked his chin and let out a loud “hmmmm!”

Then, feeling rather pleased with himself, he turned his attention back to the radio, wondering if Cecil and Earl were making out as well as he was.

> So that’s today’s traffic, listeners. Just… cars. The occasional truck. Driving down Route 800. And then, somewhat more slowly, through town. No mysterious figures or anything. Better luck tomorrow, I guess.
> 
> Um.
> 
> I’m hoping that one of our interns might call in with some news about the sale at Dark Owl Records. Intern Ingrid? Intern Rosita? If you’re out there, we’d love to hear from you. About anything, really.
> 
> Oh good! Here comes Intern Kwame! Do you have any news for our listeners, Kwame? Oh. Ok. He’s just handing me another cup of coffee. Great. My heart rate had almost returned to normal there.
> 
> *audible sigh*
> 
> Listeners, I have to say, I never noticed how long this show is. Especially long today, it seems. Did I mention anything on the community calendar about Double Thursday? Kwame is shaking his head “no.” Oh well.
> 
> Oh! The phone line is lighting up! I mean, I think that’s the phone line - ok, Kwame is nodding yes. Is it a listener with a tip? Kwame is writing down a name. Carlos! He must have some news about the situation down at the Ralph’s. Put him through, Kwame!
> 
> Why hello, Carlos. What’s going on at the Ralph’s? I know it must have been highly urgent, since you _rushed out of here so quickly_.

Carlos sighed and glanced at the kitchen door, wondering if he could just sneak away from dinner prep for ten minutes and snag one of those specimens. No, better not. A scientist chef is always responsible.

> “Oh, hi, Cecil! Yes, so it turns out that all of the cheese in the store has turned into beetles. Weird, right?”  
> 
> I guess so. Are they dangerous beetles?
> 
> “Not really.”
> 
> Are they infesting the rest of the store?
> 
> “Ummmmm… nope. The manager seems to have them contained. In fact, it sounds like he might be able get a good price if he ships them to some fusion cuisine restaurant in Svitz. He’s pretty excited!”

Carlos raised an eyebrow at Linda, who was busy chopping onions beside him. She shrugged. “Sorry, chef. I didn’t know,” she said.

When Earl spoke again, Carlos could tell that he was forced the words out through gritted teeth.

> Carlos. My love. My _perfect scientist._ Is there _anything interesting or threatening whatsoever_ about the beetle situation.
> 
> “Ahem. Well. You might want to tell your listeners that if they were planning on grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner, they’ll probably want to opt for soy cheese.”

Carlos chuckled and turned around to make some kind of “soy” pun to Linda, but what he saw on the stove left him momentarily speechless. Long, scaly appendages were rising out of the pot and snaking across the counter, reaching for anything in their path. One of them had already acquired  a large meat cleaver, which it was brandishing in the general direction of the oblivious dishwashers.

Opening and closing his mouth several times, Carlos struggled to form coherent words. “STOP! LOOK! TENTACLES!” he finally shrieked in a falsetto that sounded decidedly odd emerging from Earl’s mouth.

Linda whirled around, knife in hand. “Holy. Shit. Chef, did you really put the sand oysters in with the imaginary corn?!”


	7. When the boys came out to play.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All's well that ends well.

“Sand clams. In boiling water. With imaginary corn.” Earl rested his forehead in his hand, allowing the curtain of his hair to cascade over his face and hide his expression. Beside him, he heard Carlos shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

“It just seemed logical.”

“Of course it did.” He muttered a curse, then straightened and reached a reassuring hand out to the chagrinned scientist. “Well, at least I had the foresight to hire a Girl Scout troop leader to work in the kitchen. If Linda hadn’t been ready, I don’t know… well. Anyway. What did you serve instead?”

Carlos brightened. “Oh, I managed to get over to the Ralph’s just in time to get a box of those cheddar beetles. They were very popular!”

The three of them were seated around the kitchen table, sharing a well-earned bottle of good whiskey. Well, two of them were seated. Cecil, unused to the reduced alcohol tolerance of his borrowed body, was sprawled on the floor under it. He had been unusually quiet for the last few minutes - perhaps initiating (and losing) two tickle fights in the past half hour had worn him out. Now he erupted in a fresh round of giggles. “CHEDDAR BEETLES! OH GODS! Earl, you were so des...des....desperate for them to be newsworthy…”

Earl leveled a gentle kick at his inebriated boyfriend’s ass. “Oh, hush. You’re lucky I managed to limp through the damn broadcast anyway, or we’d be picking up pieces of you in the sand wastes for the next month.”

“Yes. LUCKY! We are all lucky to be alive, though our… lives… be but… oh, fuck it. Remind me tomorrow that I owe you a vaguely unsettling aphorism. Now pass me down that bottle, and we’ll all drink to luck.”

Sliding out of his chair, Carlos kneeled on the linoleum and bent over to touch noses with Cecil. “Honey… I don’t want to be a spoilsport or anything, but I have to wake up in that body tomorrow. And I suspect it’s already going to have a terrible headache. As a scientist, I’m afraid I have to insist that you switch over to water.”

“Hmph,” Cecil sulked. “I think you’ve been in that body too long. The No Fun spirits have possessed your soul.”

“No fun, Palmer?” Earl took one more swig of whiskey, capped the bottle, and joined the other two on the floor. He pulled an unresisting Cecil into his lap. “I’ll tell you what. You’re going to drink a glass of water, just as our sensible scientist suggests, and then I’m going to carry you into the bedroom and show you exactly how fun I am.”

Cecil’s eyes, though slightly unfocused, were wide; his attention now fully engaged. “Oh,” he managed.

“That’s right: oh.” He couldn’t resist giving Cecil’s borrowed curls a gentle tug as a sign of things to come. “Don’t worry - I’ll leave Carlos’s body in decent working order. I can’t make the same promise about what he’s going to do to yours though, can I Carlos?”

The scientist looked up from the sink, where he was filling a glass, with an expression of perfect innocence. “A scientist enjoys engaging in thorough exploration. That is one of a scientist’s most important qualities.”

Cecil shivered slightly in Earl’s arms. “Oh… oh gods.”

Earl felt his lips twitching in an involuntary smirk. “Oh, and don’t forget... we have a running date tomorrow at sunrise. Your listeners will be eager to hear all about it.”


End file.
